


let me come home

by starwarringavengers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben Solo is a Mess, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22029136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarringavengers/pseuds/starwarringavengers
Summary: I can't breathe,is what he wants to say.I can't breathe with you so close. I can't think.He’s on his knees before her in something as close to supplication as he can find at the moment, and she’s asking what she can do for him.“I don’t want to take any more,” Ben croaks, the sound torn from his throat in a near-sob. “I can’t take anything else - no more lives, no more power, no more from you. I can’t take anything more from you.”
Relationships: Ben really just wants to have sex with Rey, He just really loves her okay, He's a big baby, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 14
Kudos: 256





	let me come home

Kylo Ren lives in a constant state of limbo.

He knows terror through Snoke and through the dreams and images that were planted in his head from such a young age. He knows sleepless nights and darkness and pain and so much uncertainty, though he tries not to show it. He knows the empty feeling of conquest. He hides the cracks.

Or so he thought.

Ben Solo lives in a constant state of longing.

The longing only ceases, briefly, when she appears.

His life now is categorized by _before-Rey,_ and _after-Rey,_ and if it’s possible, his longing has only grown worse in the years between the love of his youth and the darkness of his adolescence, followed by the pain of his adult life. But seeing her every time their Bond opens pulls at another thread of his insolent need for her, sharper each time she appears before him, whether tired and cranky or soft and content, or his favorite, _peaceful._

She isn’t peaceful often, especially when he appears. And Ben _gets it -_ it’s hard to find a center when she’s standing there, threatening to tear down everything he’s ever built, both good and bad, with eyes the color of the tea his mother used to drink.

Now she’s here, right before him sitting in a chair with one knee tucked up to her chest as she undoes her shoes and nearly throws it to the floor. Battle after battle, he comes back covered in the blood of those he’d rather not harm - and this time is no better. He’s a live wire, discontented and desperate.

Commanding the First Order is not as simple as Ben would like it to be, and he knew that all along, but the frustration of it all is wearing his every nerve thin. Hux had gone behind his back and made a deal with the Guavian Death Gang, after Ben had _specifically_ instructed him not to. Ben is many things - but in-league with traffickers of living things is not something he will ever acquiesce to. One thing after the other piles up, until it all sits on Ben’s shoulders like the weight of the legacies he carries.

Rey looks up at him as their Bond manifests, looking at him with a wide gaze as Ben peels his shirt off, having been intent on showering before attempting and probably ultimately failing to find sleep. But then she’s there, beautiful before him, and Ben crumbles to his knees. The look of alarm that crosses his face would be amusing if he weren’t feeling so utterly defeated.

Every time their Bond has opened since Crait, there has been yelling and screaming and even once a punch that narrowly grazed his nose. Crying. Sometimes silent, sometimes loud sobs that tear at his heart when the Bond manifests them next to each other in bed. Ben hates those the most. She’s always close enough to reach out and touch, and yet some sense of fear and long-forgotten thread of belief that he is _unlovable_ stops him.

Rey stands from her seat and slowly, _slowly_ approaches him, as if he’s a wounded animal that she wants to heal. The scent of wildflowers lingers around her, warmth following her and slowly enveloping him when she steps towards him with a hand out.

“Ben?” her voice is soft - tired, almost - and it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard. The prettiest thing he doesn’t _deserve._ He looks up at her, the glow of the holopanels casting a soft ring of light around her head, and he notices that her hair is loose, falling down to her shoulders in shiny dark strands. Slowly, Rey reaches out a hand and touches his face, sensing the turmoil inside of him and the longing he projects into their shared space. Her fingers curl around his jaw and Ben chokes back something like a sob.

“Let me hold you, please,” He pleads, hands numbly reaching out for her, a piece of his heart breaking when she steps back.

“Take off your gloves first,” she demands, and Ben finds himself unthinking as he tugs off the leather and lets it fall to the floor, his arm guards the only thing that remains on his upper half. Finally, Rey steps forward, back into his space and Ben wraps his hands around the backs of her thighs, pressing his face into her midsection and breathing in the scent of clean soap and wildflowers and something cutting and heavy - the scent of her. He would give anything to press his lips to her bare skin.

“Talk to me,” Rey says quietly, urging him on with her fingers carding through his hair, gentle and reassuring. He can’t find the words to explain to her the desperation he feels.

He finds himself moaning her name, shaking against her as her fingernails scratch the nape of his neck and she slowly slides down to the ground, putting him face to face with her wide eyes and pink lips. Ben longs to shut his eyes at the sight of her and the way it threatens to reduce him to frankly embarrassing tears.

“Ben? Please, tell me what you need,” Rey whispers, “Tell me what I can do.”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, Rey, I can’t -“

_I can’t breathe,_ is what he wants to say. _I can’t breathe with you so close. I can’t think._

He’s on his knees before her in something as close to supplication as he can find at the moment, and she’s asking what _she_ can do for _him._

“I don’t want to take any more,” Ben croaks, the sound torn from his throat in a near-sob. “I can’t take anything else - no more lives, no more power, no more from you. I can’t take anything more from you.”

It’s an admission that he never thought he would make, something he never thought himself capable of saying.

Ben feels it, what’s on the tip of her tongue. _Come home,_ her mind is yelling at him, projecting into his consciousness with a fierceness he has always known her capable of and is continuously amazed by. _Come home, Ben, be with me._

And _oh, how he wants to._ But he can’t, not right this moment. No, this moment is theirs alone, in the vacuum that their Bond creates. Here, he’s safe from the potential rejection of those that he’s failed. Here, with Rey, he can put off the impending trial he’ll have to face for his sins.

His hands slide from Rey’s hips to her back, crushing her close and nearly lifting her from the ground as he stands, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist as he carries them to the bed in the corner of the room. His name is a question on her lips.

_Will you forgive me?_ He wants to ask. _Will there ever be a day when I will be more than the things I’ve done, than the pain I’ve caused? In this life or the next, will I get to love you?_

The answer comes as Ben tucks his face into her neck, falling to his knees on the mattress and gently laying Rey back down on the sheets.

_Yes._

Tears leak from the corners of his eyes as he looks up at her, seeing everything he’s ever wanted in the face of this remarkable woman. But it’s too much to saddle her with - the fate of the galaxy, all the light in all the worlds, and all the hope that goes with that. No, that’s too much. All she has to be is _Rey._ Not a hero, not a Jedi, not his Empress - just _Rey._

“I’ve taken too much, I’m so tired,” Ben repeats, soft words against the shell of her ear as Rey presses a gentle, lingering kiss to his jaw, that shocks his skin. “Let me give.”

It’s a beg, just like when he’d pleaded with her to take his hand in the red ruins of the throne room on the _Finalizer._

The first meeting of their lips is transcendent, ethereal - too soft for everything he’s done and all the hate he holds. But it’s given to him nonetheless, because sometimes, _sometimes,_ the Force is merciful.

“I want you.” Rey says it simply, as if it’s not the best thing that anyone could ever say to him. But it is, _it is._

_I will give you all of me,_ he tells her through their Bond, this thing like life itself that Ben will protect and cherish from this moment forward, as he slowly slides his wandering, traitorous hands all over her body. She’s lithe and graceful and pure strength beneath him, all sinewy muscle and beautiful curves to catch his fingertips on, and skin marked by sun and freckles and scars that he slowly uncovers as he unwinds her gauze crosspiece. He’s spent quite enough time thinking about this, about how he’d do this, and somehow none of his fantasies seem right now that she’s really _here._ Those stories in his mind feel weak now, because her body is so warm and real against him now, and she’s so many sensations that he could never even dream of coming up with.

Rey arches her back into his hands when Ben leads her to pull her shirt up, his touch trailing over the swell of her breasts and marveling at how her nipples tighten and pebble with the lightest brush of his fingertips. Ben grins against the skin the covers her ribs, pressing a kiss where he can feel her heartbeat before marking a path down to the waistband of her leggings. Breathless, Ben leads her to tug them off, revealing beautiful expanses of leg that he just wants to _touch._

“Ben,” Rey laughs a little, “Is there a particular reason you’re going so _slow?”_

Ben smiles, returning to his spot lying between her legs. “My little scavenger, always so impatient,” he murmurs against the bare skin of her thigh. “I told you to let me give.”

She’s quiet after that, mustering up enough patience _just_ to be quiet, but not nearly enough that he doesn’t feel its hum through the Bond, vibrating around them. Rey’s hands curl in his hair, twisting around the strands as he presses an experimental kiss to the damp cotton that’s stretched over her cunt. She cries out and arches her back off of the bed, her hips grinding against nothing as Ben smiles more to himself than her. She’s thinking in fragmented sentences, about him and his mouth, about need, and most amusingly, about his mother.

“Do _not_ bring my mother into this, Rey,” Ben growls playfully, hooking his fingers in the waistband of the cotton that covers her as if to reiterate his point. She laughs, unburdened and sweet.

“I’m just wondering how exactly I’m going to face your mother in the morning after her son has his face in my -“

Ben doesn’t really _intend_ to cut her off, but he just can’t help himself when he slides a fingertip over her center, finding her dripping like sweet honey. He resists the heavy urge to moan.

“There’s no need to give Leia Organa any indication that I have been _anything_ other than proper,” Ben jokes, even as he slowly slides a finger into her cunt, shuddering at the sound of her gasp and the way she grips his wrist, guiding his movements and whining when he finds a spot that she likes.

Little trails of thoughts like _yes, there, Ben, more,_ flow from her head to his, the Bond rolling around them with a heady mixture of lust and pure adoration as Ben continues to watch her, entranced by the way she responds to him. It’s tentative when he leans in and urges her to part her thighs for him before pressing his mouth to her. She tastes sweet, like everything he’s ever dreamed of, and Rey comes with a cry of his name that sends a shiver down his spine.

_This,_ he thinks, _this is what I wanted to give you._

Perhaps there’s a degree of selfishness to this, that he wanted to give this to her just to know that his hands could do more than cause pain. Personal validation is Dark, but his longing to give her pleasure, to give her the reverence she deserves, to give her anything and everything she could ever ask for - that’s pure.

“Can we, will you -“ Rey huffs, _“Please.”_

Ben looks up at Rey from his spot between her legs, which he is _loathe_ to move from, but she’s tugging at his hair and forcing him to crawl up her body so that she can tug at his trousers, pushing them down with an efficiency that Ben almost admires, were he not so amused by the determined look on her face. It’s his turn to gasp though, when Rey locks her arms around his shoulders and turns them, settling over his lap in one swift movement. Ben hisses as she slides along his length, wet and warm and _so soft._

She’s only grinding on him, her knees bracketing his hips and he’s in a trance, staring at the way her head tips back as she moves against him. “Please,” she whimpers, her brow furrowed in a sweet expression of need.

“Say it, Rey,” Ben pleads, desperate for her to tell him _exactly_ what she wants. “Say it, _cyar’ika.”_

“I need you, I want you inside me, please Ben,” Rey gasps, her fingernails digging into his bare chest. “Give me you.”

His brain short-circuits, _how could it not?_ Gently, with patience and restraint Ben Solo thought he no longer possessed, he urges Rey to lift her hips and together, their eyes never leaving each other’s, she sinks down onto him with a sound so lovely he could die right there and not mind. She’s hot and tight around him, and fuck he can hardly _breathe,_ let alone _think._ He’s been waiting all his life for this, it seems - for her.

Their bodies move together like they were made to, as every curve of her fits into every curve of him. They give and take and the Force blankets them in something hazy, as if it knows that all they need is to exist in this moment, with each other. They tumble together on the bed, soft laughter interrupting the sounds of moans and sighs and Ben’s new _favorite_ sound: Rey’s whimper. She is ethereal in every way, whether above him or below him, and he swears that he will dedicate the entirety of the rest of his life to figuring out how many ways he can get her to make that sound, how many ways he can _take_ her, if she’ll let him.

Their Bond continues to hum even after they’ve finished, when Ben is laying with his head on Rey’s chest as her hands card through his hair, and he whispers sweet things into her skin just to hear her little peals of laughter.

“Ben,” she says suddenly, “Will you come home?”

Home is a place that Ben has trouble picturing. Is it a decrepit Resistance base in the Outer Rim? A room at Luke Skywalker’s academy? The halls of the Senate that he’d wandered while his mother sat in meetings?

No, it’s none of those things.

Home is Rey, wherever she is. Her arms, her heart.

“You’ll have to tell me where you are,” Ben tells her with a smile. “After all, home is with you.”


End file.
